“Isn’t it there. Then I don’t know where it is,” repeated the grave-digger with emphasis. “But I will give you another.”
“You are like the grave that you are digging,” cried the old man irritably. “You don’t know the value of what you lose. For whom is this grave?”
“For a dead person, of course,” replied the bad-humored man.
“Like a tomb! Like a tomb!” repeated the old man dryly. “You don’t know what you throw out nor what you swallow. Dig! dig!”
At this the old man, who was Tasio, the village philosopher, turned and started toward the gate.
In the meantime, the grave-digger had finished his job, and two little mounds of fresh, red clay were piled on either side of the grave. He took some betel nut out of his broad-brimmed hat, and began to chew away, looking with an air of stupidity at everything within his horizon.
[1] Petty governor, the highest local official.
[2] Trellis work made of reeds.
[3] Local commander of the Civil Guard.